The Beginning of the End
by Ripper101
Summary: Absolute Beginners: Just why is it that Colin hates Vendice as much as he does? Is it all because of the Napoly race riots? And just how much can life in the fast lane corrupt an Absolute Beginner?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own 'Absolute Beginners'. Nor do I own the characters from the musical.

Pairing: Vendice/ Colin.

Author's Note: Set sometime during those hazy, crazy summer days when Colin is working for Vendice in the advertising business. If more background is needed, then reviews asking for it may get me to put in more chapters with more of a story.

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A slow, quick smirk and then Vendice whipped around and flicked up a box of cigarettes from his table. With an unbelievable amount of fluidity, he slipped them into his pocket with one hand and laid the other on Colin's arm.

Unbelievable was right; Colin wondered just how many times Vendice had practised before he attained that ungainly grace. But for the moment he kept his thoughts to himself and just concentrated on putting his feet one in front of the other.

Out the door, ignoring the raised eyebrows and knowing flushed looks from the girls at the typewriters in the outer room. Out the other door and into the waiting car. The engine starting with a petulant whine and protesting shriek and then smoothly out onto the streets with Vendice fidgeting with the wheel as he always did.

"Nice car," Colin blurted, already hating himself for saying something so inane.

"Thank you," Vendice said, making a sharp swerve around the corner and narrowly missing a pedestrian trying to cross the road.

Nothing more was said until they reached their destination. And this was a surprise! Judging from the older man's tastes, Colin would have expected something a little more… modern. Not a neat little place somewhere quiet. It was a family home, the place he lived in. What was someone like Vendice Partners doing in a place like that? He didn't have a family. Or did he?

Colin shot a panicked look at the man's left hand and felt his heart only slow down slightly when he saw no wedding ring. It was easy enough to remove a ring, wasn't it? But he had horrible visions of some woman coming round to his apartment and screaming at him in the street. It could happen! He'd seen it!

"Open the door, would you?" Vendice asked, for some inexplicable reason hauling a cardboard box out of the backseat. "Key's in my pocket."

Colin looked from the box to the pocket to the door. Evidently, his host expected him to dive in after that key. He obliged, ignoring warmth and clothed hip and a dry chuckle so quiet he barely heard it even standing as close as he was. But the key- an ordinary looking one- was out and fitted in the lock and gliding open in no time.

No time at all. A bad thing, Colin thought, because it took him closer. He should never have said yes. He really shouldn't have. He wasn't sexually precocious as everyone said. So he had a few wonderings and a couple of stupid dreams. Didn't mean he had to do anything about them! And what about Suzette? He loved her, didn't he? She was his girl. His everything. He'd got into this business for her.

But somewhere along the way…

"Come in, son, come in. Can't stand there all day," Vendice snapped, slamming the door shut almost before Colin had even entered safely. "Get yourself a drink. They're over there." He pointed at a large bar and Colin barely had time to glance futilely at it before his host was leading the way up a flight of stairs.

Light, quick patter of footfalls on agonizingly soft carpet. The entire place was covered with it! Vendice pampered himself.

The first room to the left and the first thing Colin saw was a bed. An enormous bed. A bed that dominated everything else in the room. A bed that really _was_ everything else in the room.

Once again, Colin found himself taken by surprise. Graceful fingers grabbed his arms and pushed him back against the shut door. Vendice didn't waste any time on civilized conversation either, it seemed. In less than a minute, he was down on his knees, one arm across the boy's hips to restrain him and the other hand assisting his mouth.

Colin's head exploded.

He'd started to say 'Vendice' the split second before, as terror consumed him from head to foot, but then something halfway along his body got consumed by something much warmer and softer and wetter than terror could ever be and since that something was infinitely better, his voice cut out halfway through. 'Ven' it was, and 'Ven' it had remained for the entire- embarrassingly short- interlude.

Vendice stood up, wiped his mouth with a handkerchief he pulled from his pocket, balled the cloth up and threw it away before rising. "Quite good."

Colin flushed and tried to think of something suitable to say.

"I think," Vendice said softly, all hints of American brusqueness gone from his voice, "That you would be far more comfortable out of those clothes. Let me help."

Colin slapped the delicate hands away and scowled. "I can undress myself, thanks," he snapped. Just his luck, the first words out of his mouth that didn't sound stupid just sounded childish. From the amused look on his companion's face, it had been taken in exactly that spirit.

'_Let the little boy have his way for now_,' said that look, '_It must be expected from children his age._'

Well he wasn't a child! And he wasn't petty! He could be an adult, too. So he stripped, ignoring the little urge inside himself to feel ashamed in some way, and then walked boldly over to the bed and sat down. He clenched his fingers tight into the covers, trying to make them be still.

The older man undressed leisurely, wordlessly picked up both sets of clothing and put them into neat piles on a shelf along one wall and made his casual way over to the bed. Completely unconcerned about a thing.

Colin was certain that by now his ears were flaming red even if his cheeks weren't. Instinctively his eyes dropped away to look at the floor, a little frightened by what he had experienced and what he could experience now. It was too much. But he couldn't back down. Besides, Vendice had gotten him that exhibition in the autumn. He had to do _something_ to repay him.

"Lie down," Vendice instructed.

"What are you going to do?" Colin asked, more quickly that he liked. He could hear the apprehension in his own voice.

"Nothing you won't like," his companion laughed. A predatory look lit his face and if Vendice hadn't looked like an elegant vulture before, he certainly did now. It was strangely attractive. "Lie down."

Colin did it.

Vendice lay beside him, one hand reaching out to take him by the shoulder. Slowly pulling him around, pulling him closer. Slipping his hand up his neck to the back of his head and holding him still as he kissed him.

Colin tried to mumble something that might have been 'no' but he never got the chance to say it. His mouth was being assaulted; his lips pried open and his tongue invited out with open licks. He flushed and tried to pull away but Vendice was obviously stronger than he looked.

It was nothing, in short, like almost kissing Suzette.

She had always hinted, of course. And her lips had shaped soft kisses at him before she pulled away at the last minute. They had laughed about them, secure in the fact that it would happen one day. Colin had never rushed her. He wanted it to be perfect.

This was nothing like he had imagined kissing her. Vendice was rough and his lips were not as soft. He didn't taste like lipstick and sugar. The kisses were aggressive and messy and wet and the only response they sent through the younger man's body was a muscle-aching need for 'more'. He didn't want to protect Vendice from anything; he didn't want to take things slow.

This was fiery, fierce. It wasn't love; it wasn't even affection. It was warped and weird and nothing that Colin could understand except that his hands were already moving down Vendice's back, nails digging down into barely fleshed out bone.

No suggestion of softness here, either. Suzette was soft and pliant and curvy. Vendice was all hard lines and lithe muscle. His hair wasn't soft when Colin threaded a hand through it; it felt rough and scratchy from hair spray. They rolled a little, battling with tongues and hands to dominate the other, eyes closed shut and hoarse groans dropping from each pair of swollen lips.

Colin was so intent on what he was touching that he hardly noticed where Vendice's hands were before they reached roughly between his legs. Here, surprisingly enough, was reprieve from the nightmare reality. Soft, delicate fingers that rubbed briskly against the hot flesh and made him cry out in something approaching either panic or eagerness.

Vendice hissed and bit at his throat. "Never thought you'd be so noisy," he leered.

Colin trembled and continued to tremble until Vendice ripped another- albeit smaller- orgasm from his body. And then he had a handful of rough blond hair, an armful of sweating male and the harsh, aroused breathes on his neck. Still, he took a few moments to get his breath and sanity back.

By which time, Vendice had silently taken his hand and pulled it down to his thighs. "Just stroke," he warned, "Do whatever it is that makes you feel good."

That was all. Thrown in at the deep end with a man that wouldn't hesitate to fire him if he did this wrong. Had Colin really been trying to tell himself that he needed to do this to repay his boss? Hah! Repay nothing! But he was here and he had to push his bewilderment away and at least look at it even if he didn't touch it.

He made to look down, but Vendice caught his chin and shook his head. "Look at me," he said softly, almost sounding gentle, "Just stroke. Pretend you're touching yourself."

It didn't last very long. The man had been very hard and very close to the edge as it was. Vendice hadn't fought it, or tried to prolong it. Colin's strokes had been straightforward and clumsy, but effective. It would only require a little practise, he mused. A tight inward smile and he agreed with himself that, with the boy willing, he might be persuaded to give him all the practise he needed.

Lighting up a cigarette after, he decided that 'teenagers' really were good for something more than money.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Set about a month later, after the castle of cards falls.

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Napoly was wreathed in a drapery of rain, slashes and slivers of raindrops pounding against the time-scarred place. In one of the broken-down buildings, from one of the windows, a light curl of cigarette smoke was not even discernible. But if anyone looked up, they would see a window open and a young man standing there in an open shirt, his cigarette glowing as he drew on it.

Not, in itself, a strange scene. The young man wasn't any different from any of the other young men in any of the other dilapidated flats around. His brown hair was unremarkable, his pleasant face, his lanky frame and his absent-minded stare out into the empty midnight street. Unless one knew whom this young man was.

Colin wasn't sure why he felt the need for a smoke, but he did. Suzette was asleep in the bed behind him and he ached to be back there next to her, loving the silky smoothness of her skin, just the sheer pleasure of her presence. Knowing she was back for good made him feel like the world was changing for the better, even if it couldn't go back to the way it had been. And God, but he wished it could go back to the way it had been.

Ah, those had been magic nights, then. A camera around his neck and whole streets to be discovered, people to be met, Suzette to dance with and a score of friends to greet. Cool playing his trumpet in Chez Nobody and Dean doing his thing with the ladies.TheMisery Kid and Wiz, before Dido and Henley and…

And that was where he realized he had just lit up his second cigarette. He grimaced down at it and threw it away into the street. He didn't need cigarettes any more. He never smoked, really. Just a few times. Once in the club when they saw that new singer and Wiz had been such a bastard. The other times with…

No, Colin would not think about Vendice Partners. Which meant that he _was_ thinking about Vendice Partners. Yes, thinking about his former boss and hating him all the while. The prick had tried to destroy Colin's world. Him and his gang of thugs tearing up Napoly, tearing up Colin's old haunts. Starting up race riots and fires and all-out warfare. What did it matter? Black, white, coloured, whatever- Napoly wasn't like that. Until Vendice and his gang of thugs.

"Bloody parasite," Colin murmured out to the humid night air.

Looking around at ruined homes and worried families. Not a good place to be any more. Colin felt just a little guilty. The photographs strewn around his room told him things he hadn't seen before. So caught up with his newfound fame and his riches that he couldn't spare a thought for his Sweet and Sour Home? Yeah. That sounded exactly right. Too busy to realize what his boss was really doing. Vendice and his crazy schedules. Handing out photography assignments like they were oxygen.

"Get this… cover that… Tomorrow's best-selling product is today's work, son…"

Colin snorted and looked around quickly when Suzette stirred slightly at the sound. But she didn't wake up. She only shifted her pretty blond head, cooed something into the pillow and burrowed under the blankets. In the dimness, the shadows in her face couldn't be seen.

Vendice's fault, of course. Colin was quite ready to blame Vendice for this too. Him and his world of fast cars and alcohol riddled cocktail parties.

A voice in the man's heart demurred slightly- not _completely_ Vendice's fault, surely? The man had made it possible, sold people their own dreams and insecurities and left them to drown in their most abandoned desires. But he was just shadow, surely? After all, Suzette hadn't married _him_. She'd married Henley of all the Godawful old queens of the fashion brigade and to be brutally honest that was really her own fault. She stopped at nothing to get what she wanted and when she got it she hated it. Not Vendice's fault, surely?

Though, Colin pointed out to the little voice, Henley _was_ Vendice's partner. And if anyone knew what Henley really was, it was Vendice. The man knew, Colin would stake his life on that. And he hadn't said a word about Suzette. Somehow, and Colin was not quite sure how, but Vendice was responsible for Suzette's trouble no matter what anyone might say. For one thing, if this ridiculous plan for the apartment complex had gone through, Henley would have been even richer.

Rich. Colin brooded some more. He still had some money lying around. Most of it was spent, naturally, though he could always sell his moped and he could go back to taking dirty pictures. The exhibition would be out now. Vendice wouldn't get it for him now, would he? Not likely! Not after Colin finding out about his crooked schemes and trying to stop them.

Dido hadn't been much help. Those rich, socialite Americans… Colin should have known better. But how was he to know Vendice had already tied up that loose end? Dido had laughed at him and gone back to her own little world of money. What was Napoly to her? If an apartment complex would make her lover rich, then she went all out for it.

Literally.

Right out of her clothes.

Bitch.

Colin sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Dido with her bright red hair and flawless skin, her drawling American accent and the way she slipped an invitation into every conversation with anything male. Her long legs and too-high heels and those damned, manicured, long-nailed, red-tipped hands that bloody well always reached for his trousers! What was it with all these adults?

Adults! That was the problem! All this came because of adults. Irresponsible little blighters, the lot of them. Dido and Charmers, both, on national television! And that stupid old man with the false wig that made fun of his friends. National Television! How dared he? Dean wasn't half dead; he was… cool, laid back.

And both bloody well on either side of him with their wandering hands. What were they trying to do? Race each other to see who got to touch him first? He wasn't like that. His friends weren't like that. The whole bloody teenaged world had nothing on the parcel of adults that he'd met.

And Vendice behind it all, pulling strings like the Master Puppeteer that he was, waiting greedily like the elegant vulture Colin _knew_ he was. The man never concealed it. He relished scandal. He loved an edge. He wanted to meet something different, something new, something with a twist. Crisps with a strange new flavour, photographed being eaten by a beautiful girl wearing next to nothing. Why? Because he wanted to be brash, hip, out there in front of the rest of the pack.

"Be bold, be brave. Sell _dreams_, Colin; make people _want_ it."

That little grate of his nervous voice. The insinuating grace he used to slip through a crowd. The way he stood in a corner at a party and just _watched_ people. Even that first time, he was upstairs, watching the party from the landing until he saw Colin and came down to yank his chains. Bloody upper level; Colin should have guessed it then.

But that wasn't what Colin wanted to be thinking about. He was looking out of his window to watch the rain. The fires would have been put out by now. But Chez Nobody was gone. It wouldn't come back, not like it used to be. He sighed and shook his head, reached out to catch a few warm raindrops in his hand. It wouldn't be the same.

Absolute Beginners. Well, not anymore. Summer was over and the rains had come. It _had_ been innocent. No more. Colin didn't want to be morbid- he really didn't- but he more than anyone else knew what teenagers were up against.

"What makes us tick?" he recited under his breath, "The new economic class. Targeted by every trickster in London. Bloody adults."

Bloody adults, indeed. Colin didn't want to be any of the adults he knew- not his henpecked father, his unfaithful mother, not Henley, not Dido. They were all children, he reckoned. He could turn around and pick up any photograph off the floor and he could show how these silly sods were all childish. Except for one- Vendice Partners.

The man was a prowling wolf, but an _adult_ wolf. He knew exactly what he was doing. He _knew_ what would happen. He _knew_ how to manipulate people, how to get what he wanted. He liked power and he liked money. He didn't give a hoot about fame. Fame could go hang itself where Ven was concerned because he saw fame for what it was- hollow and useless. Colin took pictures; he knew hollow when he saw it.

Ven...

Warm arms wrapped around the young man from behind, startling, and for just a second he almost turned and tried to push the person away. But Suzette's quiet sigh stilled him. He did pull her around, though, putting her between him and the window so he could rest his cheek against her hair and hold her tight in his arms.

She was still so fragile, he mused, so untouched. In spite of everything she'd done to ruin her own life, she'd been one of the lucky ones.

"Colin?" She didn't need to say more than that.

"Nothing, Suze. Did I wake you?"

"No. But you weren't in bed. I thought you might be upset or something."

"Just thinking," Colin soothed, "Nothing much, really. Just about this summer."

She shivered in his arms and tried not to think about her wedding night and the separate beds. Not to think about the pretty boy younger than her that Henley had taken to dinner three times a week regardless of whether she'd be sitting home alone or not. Those people, the papers and the hectic fashion shoots. How she had wished that Colin could be the one taking the pictures and knowing that even if she asked he would not do it. Colin didn't take fashion pictures; he took pictures of _people_. Though now she thought of it…

"I saw some of your pictures in the papers," she said softly, "And the one with the girl and the snow."

"Oh, that one." Colin felt just a little sheepish. That had been rather an enjoyable shoot, in actual fact. Though not for the model. He had smoked his first cigarette after, lying in a bed with a long, strong body.

"Yes. I thought you said you wouldn't photograph any models," she huffed.

"It was a job, Suze. And that shoot wasn't my idea."

"Oh, really. Then whose was it?"

"Vendice Partners." His voice dropped venomously with that name.

Suzette bit her lip and squinted at the rain. The name was familiar and she was certain she had heard it before. If she wasn't mistaken, she had even shaken his hand. But for the life of her she couldn't remember what he had looked like. The summer was still just a blur of parties and strong cocktails. "Was he a short man with blue eyes?" she asked.

"Tanned and blond? Yeah, that's him. Met him?"

"A few times, I think. Henley used to talk about him. They were business partners. I saw some papers once."

"I know. Let's not talk about Henley or Vendice, hmmm? We're finished with them, you and me, and we have a whole new life to start again." He kissed her cheek and smiled at her giggle.

"Oh, Colin." She swatted at him and then shrieked as he tickled her before picking her up over his shoulder and marching her to the bed. She fell onto the thin mattress with an undignified 'whump' and yelled again as the tickling began in earnest.

"Stop, stop! Colin, stop!" She was laughing so hard, a tear slipped free.

Colin stopped and considerately got off her. He smiled down at her, enjoying the soft happiness in being able to do so.

No, Vendice Partners or not, the Absolute Beginners were starting again. This time, they'd leave out the hot, sticky, humid summer and go straight to the burst of rain.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: About a week after the last chapter.

* * *

"What are you doing?" 

Colin looked up quickly to see his girl sitting up in bed. She looked beautiful, with her blond hair tousled and her eyes still heavy-lidded. The blanket pulled up to her chin made her look small and delicate.

"Just looking at some shots," he said, putting the pile down and walking over to the bed, "Did I wake you?"

She smiled and nodded, leaning back with a giggle as he tried to steal a kiss from her. "Colin!"

"What?" he asked, drawing back with an answering grin.

"Couldn't you sleep again?" she asked him, dropping the humour for a more serious worry. "Is something wrong?"

He debated telling her. But for what? Just so she could be disgusted or worried? Just so she could feel cheated? Just so he could ruin whatever it was that they had? "Nothing," he promised her, "You?"

"No, nothing," she protested, "I just woke up and saw you sitting there. I thought something was wrong, maybe that you were…" she looked a little uncertain, "Upset with me?"

"With you? Oh, Suze. Would I ever be upset with you? You're my girl, remember? Forever and ever."

"Forever and ever," she sighed, grabbing his hand with a cheeky smile.

Forever and ever… a bad choice of words, perhaps. "Suze, we should go see Henley tomorrow. Tell him that you aren't going back there." She looked terrified and Colin's heart twisted in his chest. Just what had she suffered with that old queen? "What happened, baby? Tell me."

"Nothing happened, Colin. I just… I don't want to see him. He- I was so unhappy. And I only wanted to go home but I couldn't. I made such a mistake and I can't face him, Colin, I just can't."

"Okay. Go back to sleep, Suze. It's okay. I'll do it tomorrow and you can stay with Cool until I come back."

He petted her until she went to sleep, smiling slightly as he murmured soft words for her and her alone. She was so damaged, so broken. But still so innocent. Or was she? Was she really the innocent girl she'd once been? Maybe not. She didn't seem to be quite what she once was, in spite of all the sweetness. She didn't talk about money so much any more, or about all the exciting possibilities in the world. She didn't have that habit of charming her way into everything any more. She was thinner and leaner with lines in her face and shadows in her eyes. Maybe she hadn't been hurt physically, but she'd had to grow up.

Just like him.

The innocence was gone.

And it hurt to see her like this. To hold her close and know the only person to blame for all it was Suzette herself. She'd made her choices and now she couldn't face them. Colin didn't have the heart to force her. So he sighed and let her sleep and when the morning broke and the rain stopped, he dressed and made his way to Henley's elegant pile. The man that opened the door wouldn't let him in until he mentioned that if Henley didn't speak to him, he'd go to the press and tell them all about his part in the recent race riots in Napoly.

The door was slammed in his face but opened again less than twenty seconds later, with the butler giving him a deadly glare as he coldly invited him in.

Henley was in the drawing room. He was sitting on the couch, sipping on a cocktail with his lips pursed in disapproval.

"Bit early for a drink, 'ey?" Colin remarked.

"What do you want?" Henley asked, ignoring anything else in favour of getting this person that he disliked so much out of his life.

"I just came to tell you that Suzette is with me and she's staying," Colin told him firmly, "She wants out. She'll sign divorce papers as fast as you can get them."

"I suppose she wants a lot of money," Henley sighed, looking thoroughly bored with the situation.

"We don't want your money, Henley. We just want to be free."

"Really?" The man looked his sudden pleasure. "Well, good! Will that be all? I _am_ expecting a guest."

"Sorry, Henley," Colin grinned, "Can't stay. Got a whole new life to plan with my Suzette." He was almost out of the door before he stopped and turned, a black look replacing his previous good humour. "Tell me one thing- did you know about Vendice's plans?"

"No, I did not. I can't imagine he had any part in such a reprehensible act. I was most displeased with the whole affair." Henley looked righteously irate. "A terrible thing to happen."

Colin levelled a measured glance at him. "If that building plan goes on, we'll fight it."

Henley smiled. "You don't even own your own apartment, dear boy. How can you fight anything? You're not a useful member of society. You are too young and far too impetuous. You have no steady job, no family connections, no social or political contacts and no impact at all that is sufficient to make any kind of statement that does not involve your fist and someone else's face. Just what do you imagine you could do?"

Colin didn't reply to that. He left. He wouldn't trust himself not to use his fist and Henley's carefully manicured face. But he would not give the bastard the benefit of the doubt. It wouldn't be _right_! He would be mature and walk out. He could get his revenge later.

He was standing outside against a tree, hands stuffed in his pockets as he drew deep breathes of fresh air, when the familiar whine of an engine went passed. He looked around quickly, peering around the tree. A familiar car, indeed. With a familiar blond-headed figure leaving the car. A familiar man that pulled off his driving gloves and walked a little too fast in that fluid way of his to hand a redheaded woman out of the passenger seat.

Colin felt his chest tighten in that familiar way and wondered just how long he had been furious with Vendice. Or Dido. Or the both of them. Certainly it was more than just the recent betrayals. It had to be. Because none of his feelings felt as if they had changed since he had first met them.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: Sorry for the shorter chapter. But there's less reflection and more active continuum.

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Colin was done with the whole lot of them. The summer was gone and he was determined not to let it drag him down with it. He had Suzette, and he hadn't really sold out. Not really. Not where it counted.

He didn't have the time for moping and whinging- or for rehashing old times- there were going to be a lot of changes in his life. He was sure about that.

The first thing to do, he told Suzette, was to get a job. Not the 'dirty pictures' variety, either, but a proper job. He went to the office of a nice old bloke he had met on a shoot.

"Anytime, son, anytime," Jim had said, "You just knock on me door and I'll be glad to have ye."

It wasn't so easy, Colin found.

Most people wouldn't see him. Secretaries asked him to make an appointment and then said there was nothing for a few weeks at least and would he like to come back next month? Colin said no, at first. Why stay where no one wanted him? And then a week passed and his list was growing shorter. He made advance bookings. He paid repeat visits. He made telephone calls that he couldn't really afford. And then he went to the snooty secretaries and asked for anything they could get him at all. Anytime. Anywhere. Even five minutes.

Jim wouldn't answer his messages and Jim was never in his offices. His secretary was a nervous college graduate who stammered horribly on the phone and took his frustrations out on Colin.

July turned to August turned to September. The money turned to food and rent and basic necessities. The bike had to be sold.

Colin didn't have the heart to sell it. It needed cleaning, it needed petrol and it was too expensive. But it was his! He looked at it and it reminded him of the good bits about money- he could buy things!

But rent was pending and Suzette was getting frantic. He found her crying over a tear in a dress when he came home one evening. She gasped and whipped around when he opened the door and he caught her, with her eyes wide as the tears froze on her cheeks. Her fingers clenched on the dress in her hands. The sight of those tears sent him straight back into the streets.

Didn't she know, he wondered bitterly, that everything was for her? He left his flat early every morning to beg for whatever he could get or wait in outer offices all day. He hadn't taken a picture in days because he went straight back to his Suzette at the end of the day, worried that she didn't have what it took to make her happy.

All of that, and she cried over a bloody torn dress?

Colin was furious. And frustrated. He walked until his head spun and then he went to the nearest pub. Blank faces that glared at his clothes and his shoes and his hair. His kind wasn't welcome. But his money was just the same as everyone else's, and the bartender didn't throw him out. So Colin drank. And drank. And when it was all over he drank some more.

Cool found him there a couple of hours later, hardly able to sit straight let alone think. But Colin could talk. And man, did he talk! Cool hadn't ever heard the cocky young teenager talk like that. Colin was an aggressive drunk and he struck out viciously against the world for trying to make sure he couldn't make good.

Cool considered leaving him on the streets but Dorothea and Suzette were friends. His girl wouldn't stand for such things. So he dragged Colin's ranting self back to Napoly.

"We need to talk," he growled the next morning.

Colin grunted and looked as though he were dying by inches.

"Hey!" Cool grabbed his arm and shook hard. "You listening to me?"

"Yeah, yeah." Colin opened one eye and lurched away with a muffled groan. "Just don' shout."

"I ain't shouting," Cool said flatly, "You just drank too much."

Suzette was out, a fact Colin could only be thankful for. The torn dress was mended and flung haphazardly on a chair and Colin felt a pain heavier than the hangover strike his already aching head.

"All that stuff you said," Cool began, "Any of it true?"

"What stuff?"

"About the big fight, Colin. And your boss."

Colin came just a little more awake. "Partners? What'd I say abou' 'him?"

"You said he paid those thugs to kick us out. It true? Cause if it is, I have some revenge I need to be getting."

Cool looked so terribly cruel for just a moment that Colin blinked in shock and had to force himself not to jar his head by leaning away. "I thought he did," he said carefully, "I don't know."

"You don't know? Or you won't tell?"

Colin sighed and got the ice, plying it to his forehead to get some time to think. A razor snapped open and landed on the bed beside his knee.

"I almost had my throat cut with that," Cool snarled, "So you tell me who's responsible."

"You threatening me, Cool?"

"I'm telling you. I want that name."

"Yeah." Colin put the ice down on his lap and looked the other man square in the eye. His heart was going a hundred miles an hour but he had only one chance before Cool exploded at him. "What are you going to do, eh? It won't make a difference, mate."

"I want to know why."

"For the money. Money makes everything happen."

Cool gave him a weird look and left him alone, obviously not wanting to sit and talk about nothing like they used to. Different worlds, now. Different people. Colin wondered when he had gotten so cynical. He's have joked at one time. Now he didn't find it so laughable.

A week later he camped outside Jim's office and shivered in the light rain until the man left the building. Colin followed him, shouted his name in case he got away.

Jim turned around to wait for him. But that jovial face with its three chins looked surprised, discomfited and awkwardly cheerful. Colin's hopes shrank.

Jim took him for a drink and Colin followed his advice and had a brandy. It burned the cold right out of his blood!

"It's not a good time, Colin," Jim said somewhere along the way, "Business is good, but we're full up. Got nothing for you."

Colin managed to get out a question he'd been thinking about for quite some time- "He told you to, didn't he?"

"Who?"

"Vendice Partners."

"Mr. Partners?" Jim dismissed such a thought right away. "It's got nothing to do with him. There's just no place for you."

No place for him. He'd spent a summer with more work than he could handle, all given to him by the indulgent hand of his Boss. And now that he tried to do things on his own, there was nothing at all for someone of his talents? He'd been on National Television, for God's sake! Didn't it mean anything?

Colin went home with his insides on fire and his skin freezing. Suzette put him to bed and he went to sleep straight away. Yet he woke up briefly to hear her crying softly in the dark and then he went back to sleep.

Cool got him a job at Mario's, working far too long for far too little. But it was work and it paid enough. The rent could go out on time. September turned into October which began to drag to an end.

Things might have continued in such a sorry pattern for a long time if Napoly hadn't been casually startled by the appearance in its streets of a fine, big, American car. It had a driver in the front and a single man in the back. The single man drummed his fingers on his knee, lost himself in various trains of thought and absorbed every last drop of humanity that was available to him through the car windows.

Colin didn't look up from the boxes he was unloading until Mario yelled at him to see to the customer. And then he only straightened with three cans in his hand and said, "What'll it be?"

Vendice was very intrigued at this change in circumstance. When Jim Plant told him about Colin, he'd dismissed the nagging suspicion as smoke and mirrors. But the boy really was down on his luck. Reduced to working in a grubby shop? Those hands so sensitive to the exuberance of photography?

"A moment of your time," he said mockingly.

Colin dropped the last can, shot his head up, got a crick in the neck and said, "Bloody hell" before he could think.

Mario trundled out and yelled something in Italian for the sacrilege to his can.

Vendice flicked the man a five pound note and Mario vanished very fast.

"What do you want?" Colin snapped, bending to pick the can off the floor.

"I heard something the other day; I got curious." Typical blunt jerking speech. Cool blue eyes took in the store. "Why here?"

"I work here. Get out."

"Never be rude to a customer," Partners warned, "Not if you want his money."

"I don't want your bleeding money!"

"A pity."

Just the way he said it made Colin come to a reluctant halt. It had been a long morning and he had a few more hours to go. He was tired, he was bored and he really just didn't care any more.

Vendice moved in for the kill, both physically and metaphorically- "I can offer you something," he suggested, "A small something, no great salary. But the possibilities are boundless, extensive, endless. Are you interested?"

"Selling dreams, you mean? Mass motivation? I don't do that now."

Colin always feared whatever that reassuring innocence was a portent for.

"No, this is different. This time I want you to capture the dreams." Vendice snatched up a bar of chocolate. "Peel off the wrapper. Expose it. Show it for what it really is." He tossed the torn paper to the floor in a nonchalant dismissal. "Interested?" he asked again.

Colin gave him a long, steady look and then turned his back. "You're paying for the chocolate," he said neutrally, "Leave the money on the counter."

Mario handed him a card an hour later. "Keep-a the private business at home, eh?"

The card had a phone number and a name. Colin slipped it into his pocket only because he was too busy to tear it up and burn it.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: I freely admit that I don't know the geography involved in getting from Napoly to Soho. I pitched it at a short walking distance for my convenience. I don't mind being corrected, however, and I will be grateful for any objective critiquing of this work to make it better.

Author's Note2: I know it's a bit analogical in places, but I'm trying to keep in touch with the narrative style of the movie. Apologies if I'm not very good at it.

---------------------------------------------------

"Oh, come on, Colin! Aren't you happy for me?" Suzette was shining in a way she hadn't done for so many months, smiling and sparkling in her best dress and her hair lush around her face. "We could do with the money, you know."

Colin shook his head as he tightened his arms around his girl. "Never mind the money, luv," he whispered, "It's great. It's what you always wanted. I'm… beyond happy for you! I'm ecstatic!"

He grabbed her up and whirled her around until she shrieked, putting her down and then dragging her to the door. "Let's celebrate," he exclaimed.

"Colin, no! You have work tomorrow and- and we really don't have the money right now, we…" Suzette sighed and shook her head. "Well, alright. But only for a little while!"

Colin whooped and dragged her out the door. She laughed out loud as they ran down the stairs and out into Napoly. The lanes were closed up and the young people had come to life. Two girls in new dresses and coy make-up waved at them in exhilaration as they trotted in the same direction, heels clicking deliciously against the streets.

Colin almost reached for his camera before he realized that he didn't have it.

Never mind. He hadn't taken a picture in weeks! What difference would one more night make?

"Come on, Colin! Cool's playing at the Glass House," Suzette squealed, "And he told me they've got a whole new sound lined up. It's bigger than ever!"

"And better than ever," Colin tossed back.

"And louder than ever," Suzette shouted.

She seemed to be free for the first time in months. Scarlet scarf knotted around her neck and scarlet skirt swinging around her legs. How she managed to run in those shoes Colin couldn't understand. But she could, and she did. He ran with her, loping along beside her just because they were young and they felt the world within their grasp.

It was escaping! Colin reached for it, snatched at it, tried to pin it down even when he didn't quite know what 'it' really was.

But he was confident that 'it' meant having Suzette there and she was there- right there beside him. And tonight… Colin thought of the end of the night when he would take her home and make love to her by the dawn light. A glowing fantasy come true.

"Colin, hurry up!"

"I'm hurrying, I'm hurrying." He caught her and pulled her to a slow stop. "Why are we hurrying?"

"Because I can hear the music call," she answered dreamily, "And we've got to dance our dreams away."

She made to run away again but Colin caught her tighter and drew her to a standstill.

"It's right here, baby," he pointed out, "We've got our dreams right here."

They were so close. He could kiss her, he knew he could. He certainly wanted to! And this was Soho, so no one would mind. No one would look twice. It happened all the time in Soho.

"Well, what about the music?" she teased.

Colin perked his head up and cast a look around. A bar door opened as someone was evicted- even so early in the evening- and the raucous sounds of singing came from within. "There's your music, luv," he chuckled, jerking his chin to the shouting publican and shouted song, "A regular symphony."

"More like a cacophony," she sniffed, untangled herself from his grasp with mock aloofness. The allure of something beyond his reach. And then she grinned and took off again, tugging her scarf off and waving it behind her as if to tempt him on.

The game of chase was juvenile; a child's game in a world of adult vice. But Colin felt safe enough in Soho. Anything happened over there and there'd be half-a-dozen burly men right there, willing to back you up if it meant they could wade straight into a fight with fists flying.

They dodged through stores, upsetting a table and streaking through a crowd of students with a shriek of mockery, running into alleyways where people loomed from the shadows and melted back into the corners again. A few blackened and burned places still remained, a haunting legacy of what had gone before. But the excitement was back and the world had no time for nostalgic memories when it was being reborn.

"Coo-ee!"

They pulled up short only when Big Jill hailed them from across the street, bouncing up and down in excitement to see them. She was always excited, Big Jill. There was always something new in the world for her.

"Colin, where've you been?" she demanded, "Ah, have you been to the Glass House? Our little songbird's there still," she tempted.

Suzette looked highly amused and poked her lover in the ribs. "What's all this about a songbird, Colin?"

"Nothing, luv, I swear. Jill?" he prompted.

The woman sniggered at him and tapped the side of her nose. "Be off, children," she laughed gaily, fluttering maddening hands at them, "Run away."

Colin took Suzette's hand and walked with her the rest of the way, catching their breath and exclaiming about nothing. And all around them new characters were beginning to come to life. By the next summer, another group of Beginners would make their way to Soho and they would meet another Wizard and another Cool and another Dean and…

Speaking of Dean.

"Colin." The older man simply oozed suavity.

"Dean."

Suzette said something appropriate that pulled a smile from that granite face. They left him there, waiting at the entrance to the club with the green door.

"Whaddya want?" came the garrulous query as they tapped on the door.

"We're friends of the Cool's," Suzette said quickly.

The door opened and they went in, instantly swamped with the noise and damp and dark gleam. The band was in full swing at this late hour of the evening and Dorothea was right there with them, swaying right there below the stage, eyes fixed on Cool's trumpet.

"This time you aren't late, Colin," Suzette teased, spinning away into the thick of the dancers with a delicious squeak of rapture.

Colin followed her for a while, but he wasn't much of a dancer. It was alright for him but he left his girl there to dance to her heart's content while he found himself standing against a wall, watching her.

Her new job wasn't much, that was true. She was working with a new company, one that had barely begun. But they wanted her to model their clothes and the money was good. Colin was happy for her. It gave her enough without drowning her. And she was so excited!

"Imagine, Colin! A whole clothing store just for us, where we can buy clothes that we want to buy. Not those horrible old stiff things anymore, but proper clothes. Nice clothes." She'd been over the moon to be asked to do it.

"Cigarette?"

Colin started and whipped his head to the side, half-fancying that the drawling voice belonged to a certain blond he had no wish to see ever again. But Dean only raised an eyebrow and proffered the packet again. Colin took one hesitantly and Dean lit it for him.

"She's a pretty girl," the man commented.

"Suze? She's great."

Dean said nothing for a while and then Colin suddenly found cool fingers slipping something into his hand. "What the hell? What's this?" He counted out money. A lot of money!

"Figured I owed you," Dean murmured, "A little payback, so to speak."

"Look, I don't need you to pay me…"

"I'm paying my debts, Colin." Dean wasn't backing down. "Take the money."

Colin looked from the averted profile to the notes in his hand. Dean was paying off the little bits of cash that Colin had laughingly thrown his way. An expensive habit, the other man had. He barely had enough cash to sustain it by himself, let alone to pay off his 'debts'. Where had this come from? And anyway, what was a little money between friends?

Dean left as suddenly as he had appeared, gliding fluidly through the crowd until Colin strained his eyes to see the black-suited figure in the moving crowd of people. Suzette pulled him back to dance with her for a while and he forgot for the longest moment that there was anything suspect about any of it.

Until he looked up one moment and found Dean with the Misery Kid in his skeleton suit, the two talking intimately in a dark corner where no one could see them. The Kid put a hand on Dean's shoulder, as if expressing some kind of sympathy. But there was something different about that gesture.

Colin thought about it for a little while.

And then the hand crept up and touched Dean's cheek and he knew exactly what he was witnessing and he turned away very quickly to give them some privacy.

Suzette spun into his arms and, for the briefest of moments, he imagined the lithe pliability of another sweat-slick body in the circle of his arms. It vanished as suddenly as it had come, but the taste of Dean's cigarette lingered on his tongue for a long time.


	6. Chapter 6

The card sat heavy in his pocket, almost burning a hole through the cloth. Colin didn't know how much longer he could pretend to ignore it. He'd looked at it. He'd examined it. He'd stood in phone boxes and prepared himself to dial the numbers. But he wouldn't give Vendice that satisfaction!

Suzette was happy and talking about clothes.

Colin didn't have to worry about her. She was taken care of. And Dean's little offering had certainly come in handy. He took some time off Mario's and went out to take photos again. Just normal photos of normal teenagers out in the streets. They didn't shine so bright in the sun, but they had their glow.

And that was where Vendice found him again- leaning against the lamppost of a street and taking pictures of a couple a few metres away.

The man didn't even have to say anything. He just pushed open the car door and beckoned.

Colin hesitated for only a moment before he slipped in and slammed the door shut.

Squeal of tire and the blowing of someone's annoyed horn, but Vendice Partners didn't seem to care all that much about who he might potentially have cut off.

"Nice to see you," Vendice said.

"What do you want?"

"You are certainly stubborn," Vendice smiled, almost talking to himself, "You could have it all, Colin."

"I'm not selling out."

"What exactly is selling out, Colin? Hmmm? Tell me."

The youth didn't answer. He was busy looking at the world again. A woman in the next car kept looking over at the two of them and smiling. He didn't recognize her and he wondered if she knew Vendice. She certainly looked his type- all lacquered and painted.

Vendice looked over to the woman for an instant before dragging his eyes back to the road. He habitually drove fast, but he was damned if he drove recklessly. Accidents cut terribly into his schedules. "Friend of yours?" he asked negligently.

"Don't know her," Colin replied. He sighed for a moment and then took the camera from around his neck and the card from his pocket. "Okay. What's going on? What happens when I call this number?"

Vendice grinned in a rather smug way. "I have new offices, Colin; expansion is the name of the game. But we're not going there."

"Where are we going?"

Vendice didn't answer.

Colin settled in. They were heading out of the City, zooming down the road with single-minded intent. Wherever they were going, Vendice certainly knew what he was doing. Colin didn't see the point in arguing. Besides, he couldn't stay at Mario's forever- he'd go mad! Or he'd turn into his father, which was worse. So he could stay quiet for a while and wait.

"Where are we going?" he asked again, when it looked at though they were headed out into the country.

Vendice jerked his head around in preparation to turn off into a dusty track but even in the midst of this swift action, his voice remained unperturbed and potentially energetic. "You've met me at a rather important moment, Colin. I'm on my way to another shoot. New product. Very big business."

"What is it?" Colin clung to the car for dear life.

Vendice actually tossed a quick smile at him. "Does it matter?" he murmured.

Colin frowned in perplexity at the man but didn't bother bringing up the topic. The reason why Vendice Partners was in such a good mood was not an issue he wanted to explore. The reason why Vendice Partners wanted his camera so badly was another issue he didn't want to explore.

Colin liked taking pictures. He was pretty good with them, even if he did say so himself. But then again, so were a hundred other men in London alone. What made him so special he didn't know, but he didn't like the implications of those few episodes in their mutual past that made him doubly suspicious of Partners' motives.

After all, there were men like that. Everyone knew it. They just didn't talk about it. But there were men who… appreciated young men? Even if he didn't know why Vendice would think he was worth something like that.

"Dreaming again, son?"

Colin was tempted to point out that he wasn't Vendice's son in the least. But then again, he didn't know how old Vendice was. It could well be that the man was old enough to be his father. Colin doubted it- unless Ven had been another like Baby Boom- and even then it was patently obvious that the man was not, in fact, his father at all. Ven didn't look that old.

Maybe in his thirties?

"How old are you?" he demanded.

"Never ask a man his age unless you're about to knock his block off," Vendice advised distractedly.

Colin sighed and settled back in his seat. Wherever they were going, he was obviously not going to be told until they got there. The only thing they could do was wait. Only, it was late in the afternoon and they had already been driving for over forty minutes. If the shoot took as long as a few of his summer shoots had, they were in for a long bit of work. It would be a while before they got back to London.

They eventually pulled up outside of a small barn.

Cameramen were there. Lights were set up. Underdressed girls were standing around in thick coats and bored expressions.

Vendice almost didn't wait for the car to stop. He pulled up, switched off the engine and was out of the car already issuing orders.

'Pile the hay; set the lights; go spread out, my dear, we don't pay you to stand around and do fuck-all.'

Colin had forgotten how fast his boss worked.

In next to no time, the first photos were being taken. The large man with the big black bear was sweating even in the weak sunshine, his shirtsleeves rolled up. He grunted and grumbled continually when he wasn't silently biting his lip. The second one was younger, even more earnest, and he stammered at the start of every sentence he spoke.

Vendice stood back, one arm folded, the other cupping his chin and alternately rubbing against each other in a show of enforced restraint. His blue eyes were hawk-bright, fixed unwaveringly on the two girls as they affected different positions with the big, shiny car in the hay. His expression never changed, he never once opened his mouth while the photographers were in progress.

Colin wondered if he ever picked up a cigarette in that mood.

Eventually the cameras stopped. The two men stood back and nodded.

Vendice nodded once and then seemed to be standing with them before anyone had even seen him move. "Shit," he threw out, "Complete rubbish. The pose was wrong. The concept is wrong. The girls are so stiff they could be statues. I don't want statues; I want living, breathing visions of fucking beauty. Alright? Colin!"

Colin started and raised an eyebrow.

Vendice beckoned him over impatiently. "Hurry up, son, hurry up. What do you think? What can you do with this?"

"I think it looked okay," Colin confessed.

Vendice obviously controlled himself from expressing his true opinion of that. "Give me something else," he invited, "What do you imagine people want to see in an ad for a car? You think a rich businessman will buy it if we just ask him to?"

Put like that, it did look stupid.

It was the girls, Colin decided. They just stood around and looked pointless. The point was to use the girls, or not to have them at all. Personally speaking, he always looked at least once at the ads that had the half-naked girls in them. And he knew first-hand that people liked naughty pictures. This could be similar, if a little more legit.

He made a few tentative suggestions.

Vendice ordered everyone into corresponding order.

Colin took the first few shots as if they might burn him. Certainly the accusing gazes at his back were burning into his neck. And Vendice was standing right next to him, once more with one arm folded and the other with the fingers rubbing in enforced restraint. He could feel the blue eyes gazing coolly at the side of his face.

So he stepped forward, away from that cool gaze. And discovered a wonderful state of affairs. The new angle put a whole new light along the car's sleek body. The brunette with the wonderful grey eyes had her long left leg neatly dissecting that new light. It was the perfect focus.

"Nice, nice," he called, hoping fervently that the girl wouldn't move.

She did. But only to smile and lean forward invitingly, grey eyes and small shoulders.

"You, erm, what's your name?" Colin emerged briefly from around his camera with a laugh.

"Betty," she said hesitantly.

Colin was damned sure it wasn't her real name, but what the hell. If she wanted to call herself Betty who was he to say no. "Alright, Betty. And yours?"

The blond opened big brown eyes and smiled with a perfect set of teeth. "Violet."

"Violet. That's a pretty name. Okay, now here's what I need you both to do."

He told them. They did it, but he could see what Vendice said about being stiff. And the car was already too stiff; the girls were meant to be warm, welcoming bundles of living flesh. He coaxed them and shouted at them and eventually just took to complimenting them to distract them from the fact that he was snapping pictures of them that would make their fathers see red.

Vendice didn't interfere until the very end. And even then he only nodded once as per usual and refrained from saying that he hated it altogether. He ordered the entire entourage packed up and the barn set to rights. Then he ordered everyone to leave as soon as they were done. Then he went back to his car, slipped fluidly into the driver's seat and waited patiently for Colin to join him.

He drove away without another word.

Colin hung on and watched the sunset with a morose eye. Suzette would begin to worry if he wasn't home soon. Home. Napoly. He hated himself for succumbing so easily to Vendice's whirlwind tactics.

"That was good work," the man suddenly complimented. He didn't take his eyes from the road. "You do have talent."

"I won't work for you, Vendice," Colin warned, "I haven't changed my mind."

This time Vendice looked at him. Whipping his head back in front, he twisted the wheel abruptly and pulled up on the side of the road. And then he leaned to the side, dug around in the glove compartment with his gloved hand and pulled out a silver flask. He offered it silently to his young companion. When Colin refused, he shook his head and put it back.

"Why not?" he finally asked.

"I don't trust you."

"You take the photos I want and I'll pay you well. We're in business, not in bed."

Colin flushed and didn't choose to answer.

"Unless you don't want the money."

Colin still didn't choose to answer. He folded his arms and stared straight ahead, willing himself not to turn around and put his fist to Vendice's nose. As Henley pointed out, there was only so much he could do. He had no power, no position, no money. Vendice could buy and sell him if he gave him a reason to.

"Suzette," Vendice continued softly, "Is a lovely girl. Beautiful. And I bet you she knows it. Girls like her want fine houses and fine clothes. They want cars and jewels and expensive furniture. Where do you have her now?"

Colin tightened his jaw.

Vendice didn't bother to press his point. He put the car back into motion and pulled it back onto the road. He didn't need to say another word. He could almost read the conflicting thoughts in Colin's open face. He hummed to himself and turned on the radio, settling in while the strains of a harsh piano thundered out.

He dropped Colin off at the exact point he had picked him up. He didn't say anything more and Colin didn't ask. The young man slammed the door shut as he stalked out. Vendice pulled out instantly and made his way home.

Dido was there, red hair glowing in the golden wash of light from his lamps. She stood up, glass in one hand, cigarette in the other, and red lips shaping themselves for a kiss before he was even in at the door. His latest present hung around her neck, catching the light and mangling it to glorious shards of light against her pale skin. At least, he liked to imagine that it did.

He kissed her, his thumb forcing her mouth open to his tongue. She bit his tongue in retaliation. And he only laughed about it and drew away, letting her go to smirk self-assuredly in her chair.

"Where have you been, darling?" she crooned, "I've been waiting simply ages."

"Business, Dido, where else?" He offered her a crooked smile. "Give me a minute and I'm all yours."

"I should hope so," she remarked whimsically, "I don't share, you know. I'm most awfully possessive."

"Hm. Yes, well."

Vendice sat down at his table. He unlocked the little drawer and drew out a few sheets of paper and his address book. He wrote out a cheque to Colin, slipped it into an envelope and addressed it as per the information his private investigator had turned up. Then he opened his appointment book. He scanned the dates for the next month, picked one that he thought might interest that particular young man.

Dido was getting restive. She stood up, drained her glass and swished over to her lover's back. Winding her white arms around his neck, she proceeded to blow gently his ear.

His only response was to bat her way irritably and continue with his task. "Get out, Dido," he snapped.

The woman drew back with a huff and flounced away.

Vendice finished the terse note, signed it, slipped it into the envelope with the cheque and sealed the lot.

"I'm going," Dido announced coldly, "You can sit there with your damned business and forget all about anything to do with me."

"Ah, now, you wouldn't go and do a thing like that!" Vendice grabbed her before she could get to the door, pressing her up against it with his hands on either side of her pretty head. "Forgive me, darling. I had to finish it first."

"You pushed me away," Dido exclaimed, spots of angry colour in her cheeks, "I won't stand for it."

"Would you have rather I didn't attend to these matters?" Vendice dropped his voice to a low growl, nosing intimately against her shoulder and kissing the curve of her neck. "I wouldn't have the money to buy you this." He drew out the little trinket from his pocket and dangled it before her eyes.

She squealed in excitement as she melted against him, both hands reaching for the slender gold chain with the ruby pendant spinning lazily on the end.

"How pretty," she crowed, "For me? Oh, Vendice, it's beautiful!"

"I know." He was quite proud of his selections. So far they had kept Dido happy and off his back. Of course, he had other ways too… He leaned forward and kissed her cheek softly, intimately.

She stilled instantly and giggled, lowering the pendant and turning her face. She even licked her red lips in clear invitation. "I'm not sure I should forgive you," she provoked.

"I think you should," he retorted, kissing the tip of her nose.

Dido smiled; it was devotion of sorts in Vendice's own peculiar way. "Convince me," she whispered, kissing him hungrily.

Vendice Partners was quite happy to oblige. After all, the day that had proceeded so well had to have a good ending.


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note: Well, this has been a long time coming! Sorry for the wait, but since it isn't so popular, I thought I could take my time with it.

-------------------------------------------------

"This came for you, Colin." Suzette paused in the midst of trying to clear some space in the clutter to hand over a thick, cream envelope.

Colin put down his fork, shifting uncomfortably in the small space and took it over. "Who sent it?" he asked.

"No idea. Cool gave it to me."

The cheque was much too much. More than he made in a week. The note was the height, in Colin's opinion, of arrogance. Partners had simply included the date, time and product for the 'next shoot'. As if there would ever be a 'next time'! But he put it quietly into his pocket and offered some vague explanation about a friend asking for money. Suzette didn't ask to see it, for which he was eternally grateful.

The next day he called Mario and said he was out sick.

He didn't mention that he was wasting precious change calling from a payphone a few minutes away from Napoly.

Mario grumbled but he gave up on a lost cause. "Be in tomorrow," was all he ordered, "Now get off-a my phone."

Colin obligingly ended the call and smiled grimly as he exited the booth. And now for business.

Business was in a posh new building with a doorman that looked richer than Colin and a receptionist that Colin got the immediate urge to photograph. If he had had his camera. If she hadn't looked very bored to have to deal with him.

"Do you have an appointment?" she asked.

"Partners is doing that, now, is he?" Colin chuckled.

"If you have no appointment, Sir, then I am sorry. Mr. Partners cannot see you today." She smiled coldly and shuffled papers on her desk in a brisk manner.

"Look, I just need a minute," Colin said, sobering up when he realized she really wasn't going to let him in.

She looked at him from almond-shaped brown eyes. "What exactly is your business, Mr… er…"

"Just tell Partners that Colin wants to see him."

"I am afraid that is impossible. Mr. Partners is out."

Colin was very certain Mr. Partners was not out. He'd seen his car and if he wasn't mistaken, that was his coat. He stared at the expensive coat for a while, as if not believing the situation he was in. But he wasn't the sort to take things quietly. And he felt justified. The sooner he told Partners that his camera was off-limits, the better for the both of them. And since he didn't have the leisure to come back, he was determined to get his way.

"He said he'd be in today," he lied glibly, "Told me I was to tell you to call him."

She wavered. He could see that she wavered. And no wonder. Vendice loved appointments. But he never turned anyone away for not having one. He had once said he might lose good business that way.

'_Never give an answer until you know what the goods are…_'

"Go on," Colin urged, "Call him."

She actually reached for the phone before taking her hand back. "I am sorry," she said crisply, "I did tell you he was out."

The door to the office opened.

Colin looked up, hoping to see one of the people he remembered working in the office. But he was taken-aback when the redheaded vision stopped short at the sight of him, red-nailed hand rising to her throat in a gesture of shocked surprise, red mouth opened to laugh and exclaim.

"Colin! My dear, where have you been?"

She embraced him as if she were really glad to see him.

The receptionist opened her pretty mouth to protest and shut it again.

Colin was just as stunned. He pulled away with a frown, disgusted at her regal impudence. He was about to open his mouth and give her a few home truths but the receptionist's avid face stopped him. "I've been busy," he said stiffly.

"Still eloquent," Dido giggled, tapping his mouth with her finger, already too close and cuddling on his shoulder, "Aren't you pleased to see me?"

Colin would have liked to say no, he really would. But why provide sport for the office? The door to that inner sanctum was open and since a few of the others were beginning to poke their heads up to listen in, he bit down on the venom. "I'm always pleased to see an old..." he paused searching for the right word.

Dido raised her carefully plucked eyebrows in sheer horror. "Old?" she echoed.

Colin smiled slowly. "Friend," he completed, "Old friend."

"Yes, I can see you are." She let go of him. "I take it you want to see Vendice."

"Didn't come here for the atmosphere, did I?"

"Charming as always," she said lightly. Dido spun on one pointed heel and then swanned to the door. "I shall take you in. Vendice really should be careful of who he hires."

Colin grinned cheekily at the receptionist, who was turning white and red with embarrassment and horror. She wouldn't look at him, instead throwing herself furiously into her work as if she might be fired any moment. If he knew Vendice, she wouldn't be. Not with those eyes.

He clumped along behind Dido, tossing casual looks left and right. A few of the old workers were there, telephones ringing and typewriters clacking. He never had figured out what exactly they did. But they paused for moment to gape at the sight of Colin and Dido walking to Vendice's office together.

Colin looked away when he realized why.

"Darling?" Clearly Dido never knocked. A bad habit- Vendice hated to be interrupted at work. "Darling, you have a visitor." She beckoned Colin in with a flourish, like a magician at the end of a trick.

The older man was on the telephone.

He held up a finger and continued to talk. Words and phrases gushed out and Colin sniggered. Clearly a prospective client because Vendice always talked too much when it was a prospective client. He turned on the full force of his aggressive charisma, then. Colin had heard him at it a few times. Hell, he'd seen him at it a few times! That poor woman with the sewing business- she'd been so winded by the avalanche of verbs she'd given up and let Vendice have things all his own way.

Dido clicked her tongue in annoyance and shrugged her shoulders. "I have an appointment," she announced- very loudly, "And I can't stop. But I am having a little party this weekend. Why don't you come? And, er, tell poor Suzette that I am so sorry to hear about her divorce. It must be awful for her."

So saying, Dido left.

Leaving a very bad taste in Colin's mouth.

Vendice put down the phone and just stared for a moment. Sat back in his chair and stared.

Colin cleared his throat and took out the envelope. "What is this?" he demanded.

Vendice came upright very suddenly, snatching open the envelope and taking out both note and cheque. "I agree," he said, glancing over them, "Name your price."

"What?"

Vendice took up pen and blank cheque and waited. "Name your price," he repeated.

"No!"

The pen was put down. "You're working for free? I won't complain, but it seems… irresponsible."

"I am not working for you!"

"Ah." Vendice jerked lightly to his feet and came around the desk. "I thought you would enjoy this one." He waved the note at the youth. "Good money. Good publicity. Lots of people will be very interested."

"My camera isn't for sale, Vendice," Colin snarled, "I told you that before."

Vendice just smiled. One of those quick, knowing smiles. "Then why come here to tell me again?" he asked reasonably, "A waste of time, Colin. Unless you have terms to discuss?"

"I came because you keep trying this. So I'm trying to end this now, right. No more photo shoots."

The door was still open. Vendice didn't like his staff getting inquisitive. So he got up and shut it, stalking around the younger man on the way there and back. On the way back, he brushed passed. He wasn't mistaken; Colin did shift away instantly.

"Do you know what I think?" he asked, "I think you need this."

"I do?"

"You haven't worked with a camera since you stopped working with me. And with your exhibition postponed to summer, you might want to start snapping pictures again."

"Ex… you're mad."

"'Orribly true, son, but not the point." For just an instant, Vendice let his accent slip.

Colin knew that trick. It was always deliberate. Vendice never did it unless he was being ironic. "You're going to get me an exhibition after all of this?" he stressed.

"I've already postponed it from autumn," Vendice explained, "It looks bad to keep things hanging like that. Lots of people are very interested."

Lots of people interested. This was the second time Colin had heard that line. And he didn't like it. It sounded vague, it sounded showy, and unfortunately with Vendice it could just be true. One never knew. Vendice always promised all sorts of things at the start.

"I don't believe you," Colin chuckled, laughing because it was such an incredibly surreal conversation. "You tried to get the blacks all kicked out of Napoly so's you could build your damned housing complex, I tried to stop you any way I could, and you still want to pay for an exhibition for me." Another thought occurred to him- "What's your game?"

Vendice threw up his hands in protest of his innocence. "No game," he insisted, "I just know talent when I see it."

"Talent. Me."

Vendice didn't say anything to that. He just flicked up the glimmer of a smile and leaned comfortably back against his desk.

Colin remembered that desk. Vendice had leaned against it just like when… he wasn't going to think of it. He wasn't! Those heady, heavy days of summer were over and, with them, whatever madness the heat had conjured up. He wasn't going to have anything to do with Vendice Partners- which was exactly what he had come to say- and he wasn't going to be seduced by any alluring thoughts of anything at all.

"I'm not interested," he heard himself say.

"That's a mistake," he heard Vendice reply.

"You can take your deals and choke on 'em," he heard himself say.

"I was hoping you would have moved beyond this," he heard Vendice say.

And then he came back to himself.

Vendice silently held out the first cheque. "Thursday morning," he invited, "Try that first and then walk out."

Colin looked at the cheque. The money would be nice, but… "I don't think so."

"Tell you what," Vendice sighed, pushing the cheque at him, "Take the money. Think about the offer and if you find you have a few minutes free on Thursday morning- say eleven- come to the studio."

"If I don't?"

"Fair enough. I won't wait."

"If I come, an' I'm not saying I will," Colin warned, "It'll be only once."

"It's a deal," Vendice grinned.

And just like that, Colin knew he had fallen into the trap. Straight in. Vendice hadn't even talked at him and he'd given in. He stiffened up and stuffed the cheque angrily into his pocket. "I won't be there," he snapped, "So get another guy."

He left without a backward glance, striding away and slamming the door behind him without bothering how it looked.

Vendice smiled in the rare silence and leaned back in his chair. "Oh, Colin," he laughed, "You have no idea what you're up against, son."


	8. Chapter 8

It was winter. It was dark. It was thankfully not snowing. But the heating was out and Colin's fingers were frozen from practising his shots on the thriving streets of Soho.

He went home with barely any good photographs, restless and uneasy with the usual bore of going nowhere. Even if he had got a raise. Of sorts.

"Suze?"

He banged in at the door and stamped to get the snow off his boots and then he turned around and deliberately contemplated leaving again.

"Hello, Colin."

"Colin, Mr. Partners is here to see you," Suzette fussed.

"I know," Colin told her, "I saw him."

A dry chuckle floated to his ears, followed by a polite laugh from Suzette.

"Don't be silly, Colin," she said lightly, laying a hand on his arm, "Turn around, now. Come on." She tugged on his reluctant arm. "We can all sit down and have a civil conversation. Now, you sit there, Colin. Mr. Partners, can I get you something to drink?"

Vendice steepled his fingers in front of his mouth but dropped them at the question, shaking his head with a smile. "Nothing for me."

"What d'you want?" Colin asked, the moment she went to get something from what passed as the kitchen.

"Colin!"

"To make a deal," Vendice cut in softly, not disturbed by the younger man's hostility, "To bargain."

Colin sighed and stripped off his coat and gloves, handing them over to Suzette. "I told you I wasn't interested," he stressed, "And I don't appreciate you coming round to my place like this."

"We can make an appointment for tomorrow at my office," Vendice suggested, "You would need to take time off work."

Suzette came back with a glass and a tight look of apprehension hidden carefully beneath a calm exterior. "What was this deal, Mr. Partners?" she asked carefully, "We still have proof about your plan to ruin Napoly."

Colin struggled not to shut his eyes in embarrassment. From the knowing smile on Vendice's face, they were far beyond Partners' interest in Napoly. Vendice was determined and tenacious, but he knew when to leave well enough alone. And Napoly would be too public a risk for the next year or so.

No, this was something different. Much more personal. And Suzette didn't know about any of it.

Not those few summer nights; not the awkward meetings in autumn; certainly not that car advertisement that Suzette had loved and Colin had tried to forget.

"My company can use a good photographer," Vendice continued, "Someone who knows what the public wants. Someone who can see a product and photograph a dream."

"Someone who can sell things," Suzette said candidly.

Vendice raised an eyebrow but nodded approvingly. "In so many words," he agreed.

Colin thought it over. He stood up and went to the cupboard, pulling out a bottle of cheap whiskey because the cold had infiltrated his bones.

Something about this was making Suzette very suspicious. This man, sitting so calmly in the shabby armchair, looked just as comfortable in a poor couple's home as he did holding a champagne glass. Something about Vendice put her teeth on edge.

He was dangerous, that was it. Suzette had met all the types of men there were. The arrogant, well-born types and those who had made their fortunes after the war. She'd met street scum who flashed fifty pound notes and silver-spoon idiots who couldn't pay for the expensive things they liked. Vendice was nothing like them. He wasn't street scum, though she wouldn't have been surprised to know he came from the streets. And he wasn't all talk with no teeth, as her grandmother used to say.

"Colin almost told the world your shady dealings with those men," she introduced, "Why would you want him to work for you?"

"I like his talent," Vendice replied.

That was a satisfying answer. The man could see the pride deepen in those blue eyes. Suzette had a surprisingly sharp ear for business but she was too young and too inexperienced. One right answer and he had her blinded.

"Decent wage and so on."

She nodded slowly, calculating things in her head. "It sounds very fair."

"Good business always is," Vendice murmured, "Equipment will be paid for by the company, of course, and a dark room set up."

"What about an office- with a phone and a secretary and a coffee machine?" Colin mocked, "How about a studio, Partners. And an assistant to run around for me. How much do you want my talent?"

"No assistant. No studio. No coffee machine or secretary. I am running a business, not a holiday house. If in time I find your work satisfactory, I'll get you an office. And I'll promote you. Or, Colin, I could fire you."

Colin finished off the bit of whiskey he'd put in his glass. He disliked the burnt taste under his tongue. The sandpaper imprint it left in his mouth. "Partners, I'm not going to work for you. Ever."

"One last chance, Colin. Is this what you want for the rest of your life?" The man stood up, ignoring Suzette for that other pair of blue eyes. "Think about it, son. You know my number."

He said his goodbyes and thank yous to Suzette and left very efficiently.

Efficient. That was something Suzette found strange. He was efficient. He looked like the kind of man who would be as comfortable hiring a gang to throw helpless blacks out of a slum neighbourhood, as he would be giving a party for the richest and brightest in London. Suzette hadn't met many men like him. She wasn't sure she wanted to meet any more.

"Oh, Colin," she sighed, "Leave the booze and come here."

He hesitated, even, for just a second, but he came to her, taking her outstretched hand and sitting down on the bed next to her. "He won't come back," Colin promised, "No Vendice Partners, no Henley, no bother. Just us."

"That sounds nice," Suzette giggled, tipping her chin to give him access to her neck. "Colin, I was thinking."

"Stop the presses," Colin laughed, nipping the tender skin just on her collarbone, "That's a miracle, that is."

"Shut up! I'm serious! I was thinking- don't distract me- I was thinking you should meet him tomorrow. At his office, I mean."

Colin lifted his head and blinked surprised eyes at her. If he was hearing what he thought he was hearing, Suzette was telling him to take the job Vendice had offered.

"I think you should take the job Mr. Partners offered," Suzette completed, "If the salary is good and- and he gives you the good work."

"You want me to work for that leech?"

"Colin, I know he's made some mistakes…"

"Mistakes! Oh, he did more than that, Suze. We almost died because one of his hired thugs went mad."

She shook her head, determined not to see things from his angle. "That guy wouldn't have hurt us," she argued, "Not really. If we'd calmed down and just done as he said, he wouldn't have hurt us."

"He threatened us with a razor, Suzette. That's the kind of people Vendice works with!" He tightened his fingers on her shoulders, hoping somehow to get it through to her that she wasn't dealing with a man with an ordinary conscience. "He's not a nice man, Suze. He'll use us up and spit us out without any regrets."

"Well, what if we did it to him first?" she exclaimed, "You can work for him for a little while and then leave. Just like that. You're good at what you do, Colin, I saw the work you did for him last summer and it was great! He won't fire you. So anytime you want to leave, you can leave."

"It's not that simple, Suze."

She hit him on the arm. "Why not?" she demanded, "Just for a little while until something better comes along."

'_Money will do until everything comes along._'

"I'm not living like this any more, Colin. I want a house with proper heating and separate rooms and a garden. I want to buy proper clothes and shoes and I want to get the morning paper and milk."

"We will, Suze, I promise."

"When? You just want to live in this rotten dump with all your freaks and your friends. But I can't!"

"I'm working to get the money, Suze. Downpayments are expensive, you know," he joked, trying to pry her hands away from her face, "Don't cry, lover. I'll work something out."

"What," she sobbed, "The one decent job offer and you won't take it."

"Vendice Partners is not a person either of us want to know."

"Oh, what do you know what I want," she snapped crossly, jerking her head up to glare into his eyes, "You're happy so long as there's food on the table and someone to keep you warm at night. All you really care about is your damned camera. What about what I want?"

"If you're so unhappy, how come you're still here, eh?" Colin barked back, "You tell me that. If you're so unhappy."

"Because I love you." She burst into a storm of tears all over again.

"Hell," he swore, cradling her head on his chest and petting her hair, "Oh, Suze, you know I love you too. You're my girl, remember? There's no one else but you I care about. I know you don't like Napoly and I'm trying, Suze, I'm really trying. You have to give me time."

"I'm so tired of all this," she gulped, "I just want things to be perfect, like I dreamed when I was a girl."

He grinned as she sniffed into his shirt, combing his fingers gently through her hair.

"A beautiful house and a beautiful garden, a husband and a baby," she whispered, "Everything to be perfect. Like in the movies, when everything comes right. They live happily ever after."

Colin held her tighter and lifted her chin. "Is that you want?" he asked seriously.

She smiled at him a little sheepishly but nodded. "I guess I'm not so modern, am I?"

"I love just like you are. Suzette, do you want to get married?"

She sat bolt upright in pure shock. "You're joking."

"No," Colin laughed, "I'm serious. Let's get married. I love you and you love me. That's all that matters."

"But Henley…"

Colin's euphoria dimmed. "That old queen," he grumbled, "Has he sent you any papers to sign?"

Suzette shook her head.

"What's taking so long?" Colin demanded. But he took one look at her wet face and her red eyes and didn't have the heart to get carried away on other issues. "Never mind," he dismissed, pulling her close and kissing her, "We can be engaged. And when the divorce comes through, we can get married. There's no hurry. I'll wait forever for you."

She dissolved into what seemed to be a mixture of crying and laughing all at the same time, kissing him and sliding her hands into his shirt with a desperation that was completely at odds to her usual shyness. Colin felt his own blood ignite at the feel of her cool fingers on his skin.

And why not? If they loved each other and wanted to be married.

So he groaned and followed her lead, shucking clothing away and taking her shivering body under the blankets for warmth. He stroked her but she was impatient, rocking against him with her eyes tightly closed. She'd never felt so welcoming before and he had to force himself not to rut like an animal. He had to remind himself that this was Suzette and he had to be careful of her. He loved her; he could never hurt her.

Slow movements, rocking together on the bed. Watching her as she moved with him in that curious mixture of shy abandonment. Watching as she flushed and sparkled and bit her lip in that endearing frown of concentration. And then the final moment when she pressed tighter against him and he was so close to her, so infinitely joined with her that he didn't want to let go ever again.

Lying back and breathing deeply. Colin was content with this, excited and proud and confused all in one go.

The next morning he went to Vendice's office. He ignored the strictures of the receptionist and the secretaries. He ignored the looks that people gave him as he walked through the main office. He didn't bother to knock at the door before he entered.

Vendice looked up from a paper full of numbers and strange words and smiled that arrogant smile. "Reconsidered?" he asked.

"There's a few things to sort out," Colin warned, "What's my salary?"

When Vendice told him, Colin had no more questions. "Alright."


End file.
